


Little Lion Man

by kiichu



Category: 999: Nine Hours Nine Persons Nine Doors - Fandom
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Aftermath of Torture, Eye Gouging, Gen, Mild Gore, Muteness, Sequel is disregarded, Some Virtue's Last Reward spoilers, Spoilers, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiichu/pseuds/kiichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after the Nonary Game, the Kurashikis are given a specific assignment: Rescue their arch-enemy from a year's worth of torture at the hands of a religious cult. And soon, they realize that their long-hated foe has become a shell of who he once was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting fics that I have written parts of, and intend to continue. However, I do not know when I intend to continue them. I will probably start really focusing on them after Electric Sheep is finished, so please be patient! And comment if you can! Thank you~

“Can you remind me again why the fuck we’re doing this?”  

 Aoi grunted as his shoes - his beautiful, black boots with white garnishing - fell victim to a pile of grime on the ground. He cursed under his breath; whoever decided to leave all this shit lying around was going to have to answer to him in a few minutes. His gun cocked, he peeked around the next corner, waving a hand out to stop his sister.  He could hear Akane sigh. “Aoi, this is the place Seven indicated. He’s always been punctual, even in his hunches. And I’m certain that this is the location, anyway. Are you doubting me?” She crossed her arms, a detached look in her purple eyes.   

 “No. But I don’t _care_ if this is the right place. Don’t you realize what we’re _doing_?” It pissed him off when he got the call. How the detective managed to find them was still beyond Aoi, but that wasn’t the part that bothered him. Seven had sworn not to press charges, for whatever reason (something about it being personal or some shit). But no, it wasn’t the whole Nonary group seemingly knitting back together after four years. It wasn’t seeing Seven or Lotus or Light or Clover again.  

 It was _who_ he had to rescue. Of all people, the man who nearly murdered his sister had been captured from his jail cell about a year ago. And of all people, Seven asked the Kurashikis to bust him out.  

They had gotten the call in the middle of the night. A ghost from the past, someone they both thought they had left behind in the Nevada desert years ago. One of them, anyway. 

Aoi had been woken up by Seven's call, and nearly cursed him out right then and there. How dare he find them, how dare he call, how dare he ask anything of them after so long? 

But he owed this man a debt, unfortunately, so he heard him out. 

“It's Hongou,” the hefty man had said in a hushed voice. “You know he went missing months ago, right?” 

“Yeah,” Aoi replied. As if he wouldn't know about something critical like that. He almost felt insulted. 

Seven sounded out of breath. “I found him.” 

It turned out that Free the Soul had nabbed the old man. Aoi had heard of their sick cult before, but never thought Hongou to be affiliated with them. He had been a man of science, hadn't he? So what was he doing with those lunatics? 

Aoi didn't know, nor did he care. He obviously did something to piss him off. 

Once they located the lone torture site building, the Kurashikis' agency had secured the building, seizing employees on all floors with Soporil. It was up to Aoi and Akane to actually physically go in and drag Hongou out, but they didn't have to do the dirty work, thankfully. 

 Aoi hated it. He had protested, saying that whatever Hongou suffers is what he deserves. And deep down, he was sure the rest of the Nonary Game players agreed. Or, at least, he’d like to hope.   All the same, his _sister_ agreed to it. The little girl Hongou threw in the incinerator wanted to bust his ass out of the experimental lab or wherever they were.  

 Snake - no, Light - had tried to explain the situation to Aoi, but he still didn’t understand. Nothing that went on in this grimy mess of a building could possibly be horrible enough for Hongou. And he was sure that once they got him out, he’d go back to suffering in prison until his miserable life runs out.   

 Aoi could only hope.  

 He turned back to Akane, his grip on the gun tightening. He had just gotten his sister back, securely and for good; he wasn’t about to lose her again. However, he did know she could take care of herself, evident in the way she carried herself. She stood proudly and confidently, her gun still at her waist.  

 “Let’s go, Aoi. The room is nearby,” she murmured, stepping around the corner. Aoi followed swiftly, his eyes scanning the hallway.   

 A stray employee must have wandered off his assigned floor; it sucked to be him, but Aoi wasn’t about to take any chances. He ran forward, firing bullets into the man’s kneecaps. His screech of pain echoed in the hollow facility as he fell backwards and began to bleed all over the dirty floor. Aoi sneered down at the man, pointing the barrel of the gun in his face.   

 A hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could pull the trigger, however. Akane had a cold look on her face; he’d seen that same look countless times before. She wasn’t happy with him, but was leaving him to his own choices. He shrugged in response, pulling his weapon away from the man as he whimpered on the floor.   

 Akane simply looked back at her brother, emotionless violet eyes piercing through him. “This way,” she announced, pointing to the lone room in the hallway to the right.  

 The door was made of thick metal and was locked up tightly. Aoi jiggled the handle and hissed as it burned him, retracting his hand. “Damn it!” he exclaimed, kicking forward into the metal.   

 “This isn’t your traditional door,” Akane explained, crouching down, “I believe there’s a certain way to open it… Aha!” She clasped her hands together, smiling. It was the first emotion she expressed since they came here, Aoi noted.  

 “Oh dear,” she said, a wider grin stretching across her face. “Oh… oh my god.” Her smile twisted upwards until she finally fell victim to a laughing fit. Tears pricked at her eyes as she laughed, holding her side as if she was in pain.  

 The sight bothered Aoi. He glanced at the door and back to Akane again. “What is it? What’s so damn funny, Akane?!”   

 Finally, her chuckles died down and, placing a hand on her mouth to hide her smile, she replied, “N-nothing, it’s just… t-the _irony_.”  

 “What are you talking about?”  

 “Look at the door closely, Aoi. What do we need to get through?”  

 The white-haired young man looked back at the door - the only thing between them and their most hated enemy. There was a simple handle, a deadbolt, and something a few inches away, on the wall. He walked closer, examining it thoroughly. And he couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, as well.   

 “Oh my fucking god,” he wheezed, “It’s a fucking card reader.”


	2. Chapter 2

Akane examined the card reader, suppressing a chuckle as she turned to her brother. “It seems like the only way to get into the room. We know the handle won't work...” Her eyes fell to Aoi's burned hand. 

“Yeah. Don't go touching that,” he mumbled, nursing his wound. “Hurt like fuck.” 

“You don't have to worry about that,” Akane said, giving him an amused glance. Truth be told, she was grateful her brother accompanied her here. She wasn't sure if she could have faced this man alone. After nearly a year of being locked up in here, being exposed to who-knows-what, Hongou could be even more hostile for all she knew. 

If that were the case... 

Well, they brought guns for a reason. She wouldn't hesitate to put him down if it came to that. 

She checked to make sure the gun on her hip was loaded properly before focusing on hacking the reader. It was locked up tight, she realized after tinkering with it for a bit. She was quite skilled in technology, having to re-operate the machines used in the Nonary Game, but this was something that simply could not be broken so easily. 

Frowning, she turned to her brother. “Aoi, we'll have to find a key.” 

“But where?” 

“Perhaps we can check the man you so gracefully shot in the knees.” 

Aoi scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Yeah, okay. Be right back.” 

“No,” Akane argued, “I'm coming with you.” She flashed him a pleasant smile that gave no room for arguments. Moving together was the best way to ensure both their safety (not that she didn't trust Aoi by himself, but she worried). 

He didn't argue, and they hurried back to the man. Akane would have felt a little sorry for him, but that sympathetic part of her was very limited nowadays. Years ago, it had died out completely, and it wasn't until very recently that she had been considering other human beings as valuable. It took all her strength and pride not to turn away from Hongou as she wanted. But, as she helped convince both Aoi and herself, the older man would prove useful somehow. She had a hunch the morphogenetic fields hadn't spelled out his death for a reason other than living miserably. 

“Alright, dirtbag. We're looking for a way into the old man's room,” Aoi hissed, looking down at the man. The employee looked to be fighting off unconsciousness (though he wasn't doing an effective job, it seemed). 

“Prisoner Eleven's room,” Akane added, remembering the nameplate at the door. 

The man looked up to them weakly and, with a fearful gaze, tried to scuttle back away from them. Broken kneecaps weren't exactly an advantage in a getaway, so he didn't get very far. Hell, he barely moved at all. Aoi looked impatient, though, and stepped on his leg. 

“Do you have a key or not?” he demanded roughly, giving the employee a kick. The injured man cried out in pain and shakily dug a hand into his pocket, revealing what looked like the answer to their dilemma. Her brother snatched it off him, examining it. 

“Aha!” Aoi cried, holding up the slim key card. Akane almost chuckled to herself; there weren't any symbols on that face this time. 

Settling for an almost nostalgic smile instead, she replied, “Good. Now, let's get back to the room.” 

They returned shortly, sliding the key card into the wall. It clicked and beeped in recognition, and the door slid open. The Kurashikis exchanged a glance. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Aoi asked, his eyes locking with hers. 

“Yes,” Akane replied without hesitation. “I'm not one to get cold feet and back out of anything, you know...” 

“I know that! I'm just... worried for you, I guess.” 

She appreciated his concern; seemed she was still his little sister, no matter what she had done. The thought was strangely comforting, despite the circumstances. Akane gave her brother another minute grin, and took a deep breath to prepare herself for any horrors behind the door. 

It was more for the appearance of being cautious, however; she wasn't afraid in the slightest. Nothing – no matter how frightful to those who hadn't done unspeakable crimes – could make her hesitate. She'd seen a man's insides painting the corner of a room. She'd watched as people she cared about were reduced to ashes in an incinerator. Too many timelines with too many tragedies had hardened Akane, and some rogue cultists torturing her most hated of enemies wasn't going to bother her. 

“What do you think they did to him?” Aoi asked, more out of curiosity than anything. The door opened and revealed another hallway, allowing the siblings to talk as they walked through it. Akane often noticed her brother becoming either irrationally angry or extremely inquisitive when he was nervous. This was a case of the latter, she supposed; all the same, she answered carefully. 

“I... don't know,” she murmured, tugging her scarf closer to her chin in thought. “Free the Soul is just emerging as a cult, so I don't know their tactics well yet, I'm afraid.” 

“How do you think Seven figured out that the old man was in cahoots with them?” 

She shrugged. “Don't underestimate Seven's abilities. He wasn't a detective for nothing.” 

Her brother smirked, glancing at the grimy floor. “Yeah, I guess so. Still... doesn't make much sense why Hongou would join up with these freaks.” 

Akane had a hunch. “Hongou needed funding for the Nonary Project, I'm sure. Free the Soul is quite a wealthy club of fools... I wouldn't be surprised if he milked them for funding money.” 

Aoi seemed amused by that, giving a snort of laughter. “ _That_ sounds like Hongou, alright. Greedy bastard.” 

She thought that inaccurate, but didn't feel like protesting it. Hongou was selfish, and cruel, and definitely not mentally well, but Akane wouldn't call him greedy. He was a businessman, but he had made it to the top with the invention of Soporil. The anesthesia was used for pure reasons, in hospitals and pharmacies alike. The older man only had one goal in his life: to cure his prosopagnosia. As far as Akane was concerned, a sole aspiration like that did not indicate greed. 

Of course, it didn't excuse anything. 

Breaking her thoughts, Akane glanced around and took in her surroundings. 

There were three openings on the walls with thick steel doors – three separate rooms. Aoi crept towards the first one, giving the handle a jiggle. Luckily, these doors did not require any sort of keys; most likely, these rooms needed to be accessed regularly, or spontaneously, and those using them did not have time to use a key each time. 

Akane checked the adjacent room, taking a peek for herself. 

It was a dark room, splotches of blood covering the floor. She didn't flinch at the sight; blood splatter never made her queasy in the least, for obvious reasons. Instead, she paid attention to the setup of the room. It was a tight space, fitting maybe two people at most, with various objects littering the ground. 

She bent down, examining them closer: there were rusty batogs, canes, and whips. She didn't even have to question their usages. 

“Not here,” Aoi mumbled, turning back to his sister. She shook her head to attest to the same luck. 

Aoi had a paler complexion than usual. Akane placed a hand on his shoulder, silently asking what was in the room he looked at. 

“It was... fuck, I don't really know. Some kinda table in the center, with ropes and stuff... but there were puddles on the ground and some on the table. I thought it was blood at first, but... no, just water. Just... a lot of water.” 

Akane nodded, trying to process it. She didn't want to think about the possibility of _that_ kind of torture, but it seemed they resorted to it. 

 _Damn._ She thought, pursing her lips. She hadn't even considered the length of traumatic events, and how long recovery would take, if it would at all. 

“Akane, what do you think that was used for?” 

She replied honestly; she wasn't afraid to admit that she was knowledgeable about torture methods. “Waterboarding. It's a particularly frightening form of torture, where the victim feels as though they are being drowned, their lungs filling up with water slowly.” 

Aoi swallowed hard. “So they tied up the bastard and poured water on his head?” 

“Most likely.” 

“Why, though? Why not just kill him outright? And I don't know what he did to these cultists, but I doubt it was even half as bad as what he did to us.” 

Akane sighed, shaking her head. “Not everyone is as fair with punishment and revenge, Aoi. These people clearly have a problem with him, so they took it upon themselves to make him pay for whatever it is he has done to them.” 

In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if Hongou truly did deserve this. But it didn't matter if he did or not, because they were already here, and they weren't leaving without him unless he was dead. It was as clean-cut as that. 

Her hand reached out for Aoi's hand, continuing their way down the slightly long hallway, her brown boots clicking on the ground and causing an echo. His slender fingers laced with hers, giving her hand a tight and protective squeeze. 

“What if we're too late?” her brother asked, but he didn't sound too concerned. He wasn't worried about Hongou being dead; rather, it seemed he would be upset this whole 'adventure' was a waste of time. 

Akane felt the same, truthfully. “Then we're too late,” she replied casually, giving a shrug. They would have given their best attempt, but if the older man hadn't been able to hold on long enough, then that wasn't their fault. She couldn't feel remorse if that ended up being the case, either; Hongou was not an innocent man, and his affiliations and crimes had led him to pay in this way in the end. It wasn't what she had intended to happen (hence her involvement now), but it wasn't unjustified, either. 

The rest of the hallway was in near-complete darkness, with only the end illuminated by a lone, dim wall lamp. Stumbling around in the dark with her palm pressed against the wall, Akane made her way down with Aoi close behind. 

“Be careful,” her brother murmured, tripping over something moments later. 

Rolling her eyes, she replied playfully, “You should take your own advice.” 

“Hey!” 

She giggled softly to herself, finally reaching the lit portion of the hallway. There was another door, most likely leading to exactly who they were looking for. Pursing her lips in thought, the young woman's gaze strayed from the steel barrier between the siblings and Hongou. Instead, she surveyed the ground, as if it held something of importance. 

Turned out, it did. Seconds later, she saw it. 

“Aoi,” she gasped. 

“Huh? What's-” 

“Don't look,” Akane interrupted, grabbing her brother and steering her away from the sight on the ground. She knew what it was the moment she saw it, but she didn't have to expose Aoi to the horror just yet. “Just stand right there. Don't move.” 

She didn't want to do it, but she had to be sure. Her hunch was based on a strange implication, after all, so it was better to see before assuming things. Bending down, she swept away some of the dirt and blood, her fingers brushing the object on the ground. 

Holding her breath, she swiftly pinched it between her index finger and thumb and turned it towards her. 

Indeed, she was right. Nausea hit her immediately as she choked back the vomit rising in her throat. 

An eye. 

Dark brown. 

The same eye that had gazed so crazily towards her in the incinerator window.


End file.
